The Scowling Queen
by nanilula
Summary: The Queen of Spades was an unmoving, untouchable work of art with skin made of glass and a heart of frost. No one could love a Queen. Especially not the infamous Scowling Queen. But Sir Alfred Jones wishes to make Arthur Kirkland smile, the only trouble is, no man except the King is permitted to go near this Queen. Cardverse!USUK.
1. Chapter 1

_The Scowling Queen_

Prologue

Queen Arthur of Spades had long since earned a reputation for being bitter and bad-tempered, or, as some had christened him; 'the Scowling Queen'. It was common knowledge throughout the vast Kingdom of Spades that the marriage between Arthur Kirkland and King William the Fourth was not a match made in heaven. However, the two had fostered a relationship which was strictly professional to the public eye, ruling fairly and successfully. King William was a stoic man, and ten years ago he had selected Arthur from the small measure of people that were pedantically raised and bred to become the Queen of Spades. Those that had lived long enough had seen Arthur evolve from a quiet, fresh-eyed teenager to a soured royal with unaffectionate eyes.

It wasn't that Arthur didn't appreciate company, or intellectual conversation, but that was difficult to find whilst living in a palace full of a buffoons. His husband was as expressive and doting as a stone statue; meaning Arthur had been sealed inside a small bauble of solitude for the greater part of his life. Yes, he had been very naïve to have expectations such as having a blissful marriage.

But he had been so young.

Children of high-standing military or academic lineage were chosen to be groomed and styled into perfect, graceful Queens. Since the age of infancy, Arthur had been instructed to sit with his back straight, speak softly and never let his poise falter; and all for the love of his future King.

When King William examined him on Arthur's coming-of-age day, he was silent, unreadable and left the room hastily. Only moments later, one of his knights informed Arthur that he had been chosen as the Queen of Spades. Stars were alight in Arthur's eyes during the preparation of his wedding day; he was giddy yet flawlessly practiced at containing his excitement. The ceremony was magical and Arthur was trembling as he walked down the aisle. His first kiss, following the words of 'husband and wife', was damning and underwhelming to say the least. The first time he was intimate with his new husband was painful, quiet and unromantic and their relationship had strayed into a similar route ever since.

That was when Arthur truly realised his place, Queen or not, he was at the expense of his King. Watching as he seduced lover after lover, guilt never touching his mind, and led the country without the voice of his Queen. Many centuries ago, a position such as Arthur's was highly esteemed and a Queen was considered precious, like an unbreakable jewel, in some cases he or she would be hidden away so no one could set eyes on them other than their King. These ideals were a lot less restrictive in modern Spades, Queens could be seen and spoken to, they could wander in the gardens and even attend the battlefield if it was ever necessary. But if the Queen were ever to be touched intimately by any other man or woman, it would conclude in immediate fatalities.

The Queen of Spades was an unmoving, untouchable work of art with skin made of glass and a heart of frost. No one could love a Queen. Especially not the infamous Scowling Queen.

-/-

Bringing himself away from his travelling thoughts, Arthur sifted his fingers through the carefully trimmed hedges of the royal gardens, row after row of flowerbeds shaped into spades. The gardens were lovely; however, the Queen preferred the untamed, neglected corners of their land. Everywhere else seemed superficial.

He was quite the stereotype at the present, the entirety of his body dressed in impractical silks of plum, navy and sheer white whilst he daydreamed. His hands were covered by pale gloves that were as soft as butter, and ruffled collars arranged about his neck in a way that no flesh could be revealed. Arthur had been taught to move in a way that was rather inhuman, lithe, hardly stepping upon the ground and holding himself in a way that made him unattainable. He was a speck of sparkling pallor in these colourful gardens. Like William would say; 'Queens are ornamental, pleasing to the eye but without any real purpose.'

A pleasant warmth from the sunlight spread across his shoulders and Arthur could hear the song of nearby birds, it was only in these crooks of the Spades palace where true tranquillity could be found and Arthur was irreversibly drawn to it. These were the only places he could be himself. He wouldn't have to maintain stately, standoffish airs and act attentive towards the matters of others. Here, he could be as unguarded as he needed to be, reminding himself that he had to bear with his the mess that was his life because he loved his country and his people.

Or at least, that was what he had told himself. Long ago, when he was still at a tender age, finding William in bed with another woman, only weeks after their marriage, had had a detrimental effect on Arthur's ability to even like humans anymore. The King was indifferent after he'd been discovered, claiming Arthur was to be silent and accept the reality of his situation. And so, Arthur was silent.

Arthur was very silent. Embittered and broken.

As his general mood chilled further with each day of his rule, subsequently, more of his people started walking around him instead of towards him.

To this day, the Queen couldn't decide if he had once loved William or if it was an adoration of what his imagination depicted. Ruling alongside a King, one which kissed him openly and stayed faithful was a whimsical desire of an innocent eighteen year old, but, like Arthur had thought previously, he'd been idiotically naïve.

"Your majesty," a light, accented voice said, cutting through Arthur's peace. The Jack of Spades, Yao, was standing before him; his eyes were still and unreadable. The relationship between Arthur and the Jack was one of unsaid friendship, a mutual, unvoiced dislike of their King and the limits to their freedom.

"The Knighthood ceremony is about to start…," Yao informed, "As you are aware." The gentle breeze fanned out the dark hair of Yao's ponytail and his gown swayed slightly.

"Let him do it by himself, my presence isn't necessary," Arthur hummed, trying to sound nonchalant but the prickly tone of the Scowling Queen was ever-present.

Yao exhaled loudly and grumbled something under his breath in his own language. "Arthur, do not be difficult with me today! I already have enough on my plate!" The Jack waved a set of papers in Arthur's face; the inky script upon them was none other than William's writing. It was a list of the most valued people of the military and navy, those who were imposing or talented, those who William considered worthy enough to fight by his side if the occasion arose. The majority were usually pretentious, overfed lords and commanding officers that served particularly well as William's drinking buddy.

Apathetically grasping the papers, Arthur turned away Yao and made his way inside the castle, already having lost this very argument many times in the past.

The architecture inside the castle was sublime, decorated with awe-inspiring carvings and Spades colours. Maids and servants didn't make any noise as they polished the mottled marble floors; it reminded Arthur of an unlived home, a hollow castle which held the scent of lavender and conformity. The guards, standing rigidly in front of the towering doors leading into the Grand Hall, bowed lowly when Arthur arrived and opened the doors for their Queen.

King William was descending the steps from the raised area where the thrones were situated, one beside the other; William's was a golden monstrosity and Arthur's considerably smaller with intertwining vines of gold-leaf and a plush seat of purple velvet. William's eyes didn't so much as flick towards Arthur as the doors made a resounding thud as they closed, the crowd of uniformed 'gentlemen' bowed their heads in respect as Arthur glided nearer towards the crowd.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Arthur addressed regally, without a smile, sitting upon his throne. A chorus of 'good morning your majesty' followed shortly after. William began, his fist around the handle of a wicked-sharp sword that had been owned by the first King of Spades.

"You are radiant, your majesty, as always," one of William's favourites said, Lord Chester. Arthur eyed the man coldly, his head was tipped towards the floor and his stance seemed to be hopeful. Many sought the approval of the Scowling Queen; none had yet to receive it.

"Please refrain from being improper, Lord Chester; I'm afraid I can't accept the compliment."

"Arthur," William's gruff voice reproached, "I apologise on his majesty's behalf, he cannot seem to distinguish between harmless flattery and bad manners."

Arthur bit his tongue and remained composed, appearing to be interested with the names on the documents before him. Dare a Queen embarrass or oppose against his King, the actions came with severe punishments, and William thoroughly abused the privilege of being able to tell off Arthur publicly without any penalty. The Knighthood Ceremony commenced, this particular one being private and a hushed affair. There were a few young lads who looked at their King with shining, worshipping eyes and Arthur regarded them sympathetically until their eyes turned to him and his eyes became icy.

The King of Diamonds had started rumours that Arthur refused to warm his King's bed which was why he so tightly-strung. He was fully aware of what light he was viewed in, Arthur heard the whispers of Barons and Ladies at the many celebratory balls the royal family of Spades hosted, the gossip of the Queen of Spades being frigid and how much they pitied their blessed King. It had hurt deeply at first but Arthur lived up to the rumours now, unfeeling towards the vicious words.

Rays from the sun were segmented as they passed through the great, patterned glass windows and the blond man was momentarily enchanted by the small triangles of white on the floor. So distracted, in fact, that when he refocused on the progress of the knighting, he was momentarily taken aback from the fearless stare of water-clear blue eyes on him.

The man was definitely younger than Arthur, tall and well-built. His face was youthful and his kneeling was a little awkward though his gaze didn't waver. The glasses he wore reflected a square of sunlight and a small stray of his dark blond hair wouldn't settle properly on his head. Arthur blinked and the man's lips curled widely and genuinely as William tapped the sword on both of his shoulders. Arthur didn't smile back and veered away, flustered and mad that he'd been taken by such surprise.

"And you shall now, each, receive a blessing from your Queen," William announced, the line of recently knighted men bowed once more as William turned to Arthur expectantly. Mustering as much refinement as was possible, the Queen treaded down the stairs, the heel of his shoes clicking delicately against the floor. For reasons beyond him, he steered himself towards the staring boy who's eyes hadn't seem to have moved. Arthur stood as near to him as was appropriate, and raising his finger, faintly traced a line across the forehead of the man. The touch of a Queen was considered lucky if deemed suitable by the King. His eyes fluttered shut but his smile only got bigger. Arthur couldn't look away from him. He smelt of forest air, and he was the only one brave enough to stare directly at Arthur Kirkland, and grin, no less.

"Thank you, your majesty," the stranger murmured, his voice steady and melodious. As a figure that was always scrutinized by his people, Arthur was accustomed to being examined and judged but he felt almost… naked under the eyes of this man, uncomfortable.

"You are welcome," Arthur stammered, finding himself unwilling to bless anyone other than the nameless man.

* * *

Feel free to beat me with sticks if there are lots of mistakes in this, I checked but I was half-asleep. 'I'll update _Leaving While I Stay _everyday/every other day' well, that's going swimmingly o(；△；)o I am honestly sorry about that, I'm working on it. In other news, I have made a 'writing' tumblr for my work, link is in my profile 3


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

Horses huffed through their nostrils and clattered around, awoken by the early disturbance. The stable's atmosphere was humid and permeated with hay grains. Arthur was perched stiffly in a plush dressing room made especially for him and previous Spades Queens. His personal maids lifted his bare calf with feminine hands, unfolding the tiny rolls of fine, ivory-toned stockings up to his knee, then tucking them under the hem of his breeches. When they'd finished both legs, they slipped on his riding boots. He'd dismissed them austerely and they curtsied nervously before rushing away.

Arthur wasn't particularly fond of being treated and sidestepped like a spoilt little girl, but that was all he'd ever known. And he wasn't one to defy policy or tradition.

"Arthur," William called, marching into the private room. "You're still not ready?"

Regarding his husband stonily, Arthur rearranged the taffeta about his wrists and simply ignored him, rising to his feet. William said Arthur's name again, this time, threateningly. The bugger was fast when he wanted to be, and advanced towards the Queen, grabbing Arthur by the wrist he was fussing at, and Arthur was pulled flush against the King. He was spun around then walked towards a wall, William growled against his ear, "Don't ignore me, Arthur, you know I don't like to be ignored."

"I'm not quite sure what you wanted me to say, William," Arthur supplied, pointing his nose upwards, acting unaffected to the distasteful stance and behaviour. The smaller man was pushed further into the wall; William was melded against him and breathing down his cheek. William made a snorting sound from the back of his throat and grasped one of Arthur's slender arms, bunched up the material of his sleeve, and uncovering his wrist and forearm. The King mouthed Arthur's wrist, biting down into the skin, making Arthur scowl. "Stop it; don't be so indecent, honestly."

"Remember who holds the power in this relationship, _my _Queen." William dropped Arthur's wrist unceremoniously as if it had physically assaulted him. "You know," he continued. Arthur noted as he turned to face the vile man, there was a smarmy smile across his lips. "If you weren't so uptight, Arthur, you might actually enjoy _certain _activities… it's your own fault I must find entertainment elsewhere. Well, Francis and I shall leave now; you can catch up with us, can't you?" William asked rhetorically, he already had one foot out of the door.

When he disappeared from view, Arthur's poker-face fell away and he sighed. His wrist tingled unpleasantly, not that he understood why; he was very accustomed to this conduct by now. William liked to play with Arthur, push him to his limits. Arthur had theorised that was why the King had chosen him all those years ago, to attempt to break him. When he had succeeded, he instantly tired of Arthur and moved on.

The blond spent a long time arranging his sleeve to sufficiently cover his wrist. One of the many lessons that was deeply ingrained into his mind. Those who were trained to become Queens were raised by both tutors and the Queen that they would succeed. He was often told that, though a Queen was never to reveal any part of their bodies other than their faces, there were particular areas such as wrists, ankles and the neck that were only for the eyes of the King, and would help to seduce him if necessary. Apparently, a glimpse of their neck or a bit of ankle would drive a King crazy. Arthur had never had to use that particular ploy.

According to Queen Rosemary, the previous royal, there had been an occurrence a few decades ago in which a Queen attempted to allure a young man by 'accidentally' showing his ankles. The Queen was discovered and sentenced to his death and the young man lost both his eyes. Arthur didn't know whether it was true or not, Rosemary had told quite a few tall tales.

She had been a lovely woman; Arthur had been silently heartbroken when the news of her death arrived at his doorstep. No doubt, she would be disappointed of the self-centred Queen he'd become, entirely out of love with his husband.

Putting on his gloves, Arthur strolled into the stables after regaining his composure. Only a few feet ahead of him, he spotted the stranger from yesterday. He slowed, eyes widening a fraction, and watched as the knight patted his large hands against the flanks of the Queen's horse. Avalon, the mare, wheezed restlessly, shuffling away from the unfamiliar man – she was a picky little thing, Avalon wouldn't let the King go near her, which Arthur found quite amusing.

"Hey, shush, shush," Alfred soothed, stroking his thumb against her forehead where she had a snowy crescent moon marking. She was a creamy colour, stippled with grey and white, and on the smaller side in comparison to the rest of her sisters. But Arthur had warmed to her, though she was an old girl by now. "You're a finicky thing, aren't you?" Alfred murmured, grinning. "But you're beautiful. I bet I could guess who your owner is."

Arthur blinked, his cheeks warming a little in bemusement until he'd had enough and cleared his throat loudly enough to startle the knight. Their eyes met for a moment, the knight's held such humanity and Arthur's were a jaded green, aged beyond his years.

"Didn't see you there," the tall man said, chuckling away his surprise. It came to Arthur's attention that this man wasn't actually, what could be considered as, smooth but rather, he was genuine and his smiles were charming. It was uncommon to find an honest man amongst the King's court. Arthur, obviously, sized up the man and acted as if he were disappointed before quietly walking towards his horse.

"It is customary to bow in the presence of a Queen," Arthur informed shortly, ghosting past the knight, and stepped inside Avalon's stable; checking the tightness of her saddle with practiced movements. The servants would have already done this for him earlier, Arthur only rechecked for the comfort of routine. And, because, for some odd reason, he didn't want this knight to think he was incapable.

"Of course," the knight said, the tone of his voice was playful. "Your majesty." He tipped his head forward, his hair brushing over his brow, and his eye line was raised towards Arthur daringly. Come to think of it, maybe the lad wasn't _genuine _at all, no, he was an impudent idiot. The royal's eyes narrowed, a little miffed off by the knight's curious behaviour.

He guided Avalon from her pen and towards the open fields, taking a deep breath, and inhaling the woody, warm scent of the earth. A strong, chestnut horse was grazing on the grass, swishing its tail. Arthur assumed this was the knight's horse. He noted that the taller man had followed him outside and was striding in the direction of his horse, and it suddenly occurred to Arthur to ask why the knight was hovering around him.

"If you are here to accompany King William and King Francis, I'm afraid their party have already left."

"I know. His majesty requested that I escort you to where we're going," the man called to Arthur, effortlessly mounting his horse. The way in which he moved his body was neither graceful nor aristocratic, the Queen had a sneaking suspicion that this boy had been raised amongst commoners, but there was something likably masculine about him. Arthur had supress himself from scanning over his hand for a wedding ring, not that he was interested in the knight's personal life of course. "He told me you needed more time to powder your nose."

The blood in Arthur's veins felt like it had just been set to boil and he halted after hearing the comment. "I am not _female_, I do not, nor will I ever, _powder my nose," _he hissed, clenching his fingers around the reigns in an attempt to not let his temper get the better of him. How dare William humiliate him like this, and in front of a measly, boyish knight with no manners.

"His words, not mine," the knight replied easily, flashing a bright grin at Arthur.

"I'm sorry, I can't recall your name," Arthur retorted waspishly, guiding Avalon to the side of him.

"Oh yeah, I'm Alfred," the boy said, apparently oblivious to Arthur's stormy mood. "Alfred F. Jones." He seemed vaguely proud, but the royal couldn't see why, the name was of no of noble standing, actually it was fairly _common. _

"Well, Alfred F. Jones…" Arthur's tone was thick with sarcasm, saying the name with faux reverence. "I hope you aren't enjoying knighthood too much, because if you continue to treat me in this manner, I'll see to it that you'll never step foot in the royal court again." He mounted his horse elegantly, frustrated by the urge to impress this man. "You can make your own way, I trust?" A tiny smirk graced his lips at how taken-aback the boy looked, and, feeling smug with himself, Arthur rode away. The eyes of a certain Alfred F. Jones followed Arthur's back until both he and his horse disappeared into the rolling hills of the royal grounds.

-/-

"A toast," Francis announced, flicking his curls behind his ear, "to our beautiful countries," the King of Diamonds winked at Arthur then turned to tap his glass against Lili's, "And our beautiful Queens."

William didn't bother to join in, instead passively glanced at Francis and grinning into his glass of champagne. Arthur stoically raised his glass to the other royals and politely sipped at the beverage whilst wanting to down the whole lot.

The hoofs of horses drummed into the earth, upturning soil, as the knights raced each other as a form of entertainment.

There was a cheer and William bellowed, "Not bad, Jones, not bad!" This drew Arthur's attention to the young knight, having obviously won a race, and he tilted his head in acceptance of the King's praise.

Unwillingly, Arthur's eyes couldn't seem to separate from the man, observing control his horse and take his position for another pointless race. Over the rim of the glass, it was easy for Arthur to make out the confidence in Alfred's stance and the strength in his body, the tall knight readied himself and squeezed his legs against the horse, urging the beast forwards. It was a close call but Alfred passed their makeshift finish line before any of his competitors.

The tall man's gaze immediately flew to the Queen; his cheerful eyes alight with self-esteem. Arthur bristled and turned to the Queen of Diamonds. A small girl who reminded Arthur more of a porcelain doll than a monarch. She was dainty and meek, quick to please, very ill-fitting for the flamboyant, flirtatious Francis, whom Arthur not-so-secretly couldn't stand.

"I hope you have been faring well, Lili." Making small talk with the other Queen would help distract Arthur from what had just happened, from the irritating knight.

"Oh," the high-pitched voice perked up, she'd obviously been daydreaming as well. "I have been well thank you, Arthur, and yourself?"

"Fine, thank you," Arthur responded shortly, signalling he wanted the conversation to go no further. Lili and Arthur may not be on the best of terms but one thing he did respect in her was that she could read between the lines, and promptly smiled before turning away. Conversation ended.

"I am fine thank you as well, my Scowling Queen," Francis interrupted, peering at Arthur with that roguish gleam of his.

"I am happy to hear that, Francis, but as I have told you many times before, I don't like to be called that." Sensing what Francis was going to say, Arthur continued. "At least, not to my face," he finished primly, taking another mouthful of champagne; the flavour was crisp and sour.

"Ah, here comes your brother, Lili," William said after spotting Vash marching towards them. Yao was close behind him, his gait was balanced and cool, and Arthur thought, not for the first time, that Yao would have made a much better Queen than himself but the fates obviously thought otherwise.

Not wanting to be confronted with Vash's brusque disposition, Arthur set his flute of champagne down and told William he needed a walk. The King pursed his lips impatiently but both were aware how much Arthur valued 'alone time' so William let it slide.

He was quick to leave, steering towards the secluded foliage at the borders of the hills. Carrying on and on until William and his guests were mere specks on the green. Arthur meandered by the banks of a nearby stream, listening to the steady trickle of water and tuning out William's extraordinarily loud laugh. Servants had followed him, of course, and were skittering around him with filigree umbrellas to protect him from the sun because the day had turned out to be strangely bright for the country of Spades.

"Please, leave me," the Queen commanded softly, wandering further away from the servants. They soon left and Arthur was left with delightful, and rare, silence.

Scanning the area to make sure he was in a position where he could see the royals and the knights, but they were not able to see him, Arthur slipped of his gloves and folded up his sleeves to his elbows. He crouched beside the pebbled edge of the stream, watching not to dirty his clothes, and let his fingertips pierce the surface at the water. He hummed at how refreshing the coolness felt, how nice it was to have some of his skin away from the fussy materials.

He succumbed to the urge of closing his eyes, contented just to listen to the chirp of birds and rustle of leaves. In these precious moments, he would clear his head, take himself away from his reality and be vacant for a little while. However, his thoughts deviated, for some reason, to that knight from before. Not that he understood why this _Alfred _could occupy his mind. Many young lads like Alfred had stumbled into the royal court; Arthur found them just as displeasing as the rest of the stuck-up lot. At first they were too eager to astound and make a difference, then they'd eventually sour like old milk and become overly-indulged lords. Arthur had seen the process many times before; he'd even seen it in himself.

There was nothing different about Alfred yet his boldness caught Arthur's attention. Or perhaps it wasn't even that, perhaps it was, even though there had been few words between them, Alfred hadn't spoken to Arthur like he was the Scowling Queen, more like he was actual person.

Arthur frowned upon self-pity at the best of times, so wallowing in it wasn't the best of behaviour, but no one really talked to _him. _Not that comfortably, not like he was just another human being. The experience wasn't necessarily nice; it just took Arthur off guard, after all, he took pride in making people uneasy in his presence. In fact, it angered him somewhat that the knight had so easily revealed tiny parts of Arthur, however insignificant they might be. Arthur had a reputation to uphold, he was aloof – not amicable.

_Rest assured, _Arthur thought to himself, _I will not be caught unawares around this Jones character again._

"Hey."

Arthur leapt backwards in fright, stumbling on a grass verge and slamming his hands against some rather pointy rocks. He couldn't stop himself from wincing then looking around for the owner of the voice. Alfred Jones stood nearby, his lips were set in a straight line but his eyes were laughing. Desperately trying to gather his dignity, Arthur stood and glared at Alfred, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"_How dare you-"_

"Hold up," Alfred interjected, holding up his hands as if in surrender. "I didn't know you were going to jump out of your skin, this really wasn't my fault." Gesturing towards Arthur's general direction, Alfred's words faded out into an unmistakable chuckle. Arthur's mouth was open uselessly, a strange, strangled sound of enragement escaped from the back of his throat. He had to rapidly talk himself out of stomping his foot.

"Anyone would know not to creep up on a Queen; your conduct is out of order _Sir_ Jones!" the smaller man shouted, crossly brushing down his grass-stained clothes.

"Out of _order?_" Alfred questioned disbelievingly, his brow arching with mirth. "That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"

Arthur hoped that the squeaking noise of a suppressed scream hadn't come from him. "Good God, you're insufferable."

"Thanks. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

Blinking stupidly at Alfred, Arthur could think of absolutely nothing to say and could feel his heart thudding at the mortification. And then suddenly the laughter drained from the knight's face leaving him incongruously serious and staring. Arthur followed his stare towards his uncovered arms and hands, realising belatedly that he had taken his gloves off.

"You're bleeding," Alfred stated, striding towards the Queen.

The boy wasn't lying; there was a tell-tale sting across his palm and a rivulet of red slithering along his ring finger. "Oh… yes, um." Arthur was stopped abruptly when a pair of large hands took his forearm and flipped it so his palm was facing upwards.

Yet again, the Queen had been surprised in stupidity. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted though there were no words. Alfred bowed his neck to inspect the wound and the profile of his face was so close to Arthur that he could almost taste the freshness of Alfred, the scent of open fields and leather and pine needles. His hands were warm and roughened and encompassed the whole of Arthur's slim arm.

Of course the Queen had hardly any muscle to speak of, the only exercise he did was turn the pages of his books.

Exhaling loudly through his nose, Arthur felt nervousness well inside him. It fluttered in his stomach, making him queasy, though Arthur could only watch Alfred pat the fabric of his sleeve on Arthur's injury in hopes to stop the bleeding.

Then, there was horror. And both of them seemed to come to their senses at the same time, meeting eyes then looking away and stumbling away from each other.

"I'm sorry- I, I wasn't thinking-"

"No, you were evidently _not _thinking," Arthur snapped, though the temper was derived more from instinct than any real notion of anger.

"Your majesty, I…," Alfred moved his mouth to continue but Arthur beat him to it.

"We shall never speak of this again, and I would encourage you to keep your distance from me, Sir Jones, or else you may find yourself in a great deal of trouble," Arthur warned darkly, hastily reaching for his gloves and ignoring the struggle of putting them back on with a bleeding hand. He maintained his grandeur as much he could and glided past Alfred.

The skin of his left arm burned like he had leant against something scolding hot. It tingled, like it had previously for William. But the sensation was different, much different, it made his heart seem like it was about to leap out of his ribcage. He risked a glance behind him, making out the figure of Alfred emerging from the forestry then staying still, watching Arthur.

This was the second time Alfred had left Arthur feeling flustered and confused.

* * *

Thank you so much for the lovely reviews everybody! Free cake for everyone! I'm going to try and update this every 7 - 10 days, I think, because my inspiration is fussy and comes to me in bursts. Some days I write one sentence that I eventually delete, other days I've finished a rough version of the chapter and started another. It's a pain, it really is. I really hope this is okay, I'm not 100% happy with it but I just wanted to post something ;w;

For those that of asked, I will try and do a sequel for _Cold Fingertips, _I'm just trying to figure out how it would go. ^_^ I've also been asked what my nationality is on tumblr, but it's a secret :3 feel free to guess though - it's not exciting.


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